


Table for Two

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Series: RSVP [4]
Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Holidays, Lingerie, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5993614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack thinks he is all set for Valentine's Day. Fortunately Nisha is here to set him straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Table for Two

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to tumblr user [ledgem](http://ledgem.tumblr.com), who was kind enough to beta read this when it was only partially finished and helped me get past a major hangup about where this was going. Any remaining mistakes are most definitely my own. Sorry for fictionally cockblocking you, darling. ;)
> 
> Edited 4/10/16 for minor changes to Jack's drinking habits.

“Whiskey, neat. You know what I like.” Nisha seats herself at the bar right in front of where Jack is shelving glasses. He has people for this now, but he likes to keep his hand in, keep an eye on how things are running on the ground in the restaurant. “So do you have plans for the big day?”

Jack leaves the last glass on the counter top and reaches under the bar for the bottle he keeps for special occasions. “Of course I do,” he scoffs as he pours. “We've got a special menu planned, a string quartet, and I bought out the florist down the street. The tables are booked solid. I've got this, sweetness.” He turns around to hand Nisha her drink, and only then does he notice the disapproval writ clear on her face. “What, you think the string quartet is too much? It’s Valentine’s Day, people eat that shit up.”

“Jack,” Nisha says, very slowly and clearly, as if explaining something to a small child, “I meant what are your plans _with Rhys?”_ The _you dumbass_ is unspoken but clearly implied.

Jack freezes.

“Oh my God. You don't have plans.” Nisha rolls her eyes and tosses back her drink. “You are such an idiot, I swear.”

Jack is not panicking. He can fix this. “I can fix this.”

Nisha looks skeptical. “How? It's February 10th. You just told me your own restaurant was booked solid. What do you think the rest of town’s going to be like?”

“He, uh, maybe he doesn't care about that stuff. Flowers and dinner and all that.” Jack is _not_ panicking.

Nisha raises an eyebrow. “Are you really willing to risk it?”

Jack isn't.

 

* * *

 

One hour, one brainstorming session, and several purchases later - thank God for the internet - Jack feels like he’s got a handle on this. 

“Give me that list,” Nisha says, grabbing it out of his hands and scribbling something on the bottom. “You forgot something.” 

“I already told you, skywriting is too much. I want to hit the classics, not scare him off.” Nisha snorts at that, which Jack magnanimously ignores. Jack leans over the counter, but he knows better than to grab something out of Nisha’s hands before she’s finished with it. “What’d I miss?”

Nisha shows him. Jack drops his head in his hands. “Nish, _no._ ”

“I’m telling you, this _is_ a classic.” Nisha shoves the paper back in his hands, where she’s written ‘lingerie’ at the bottom of his very reasonable Valentine’s Day checklist and circled it three times. “It’s not any worse than what you’ve already set up. And don’t tell me you don’t want to see those long legs in something lacy.”

“I just said I’m trying _not_ to scare him off,“ Jack grits out. He doesn’t answer the other part - there’s no point, Nisha knows him too well. “If you’re not helping you can leave.”

“This is helping.” Nisha pulls out her phone, and Jack doesn’t catch on to what she’s doing until it’s far too late. He swears and makes a desperate grab for the phone - he values his fingers, he really does, but desperate times and all that - but she holds it just out of reach until she’s finished texting. Jack _finally_ grabs it away from her, but when he checks the screen, he can see that the damage is done.

Sure enough, a few seconds later there’s a buzzing from his own phone. _Incoming call_ . _Rhys._ With a sinking feeling, Jack accepts the call.

“Hey pumpkin, how’s it going?” Maybe he can salvage this.

“Should I be concerned that your ex-girlfriend is asking for my measurements?” Rhys sounds more bemused than angry, at the very least.

Jack tries for a chuckle, but it comes out weak. “Oh, you know Nisha. Such a joker.” Jack catches her eye and draws a finger across his throat - _you’re dead_ \- but Nisha doesn’t seem fazed by this very serious threat and just folds her hands underneath her chin, waiting.

Rhys says, “Hmmm,” then there’s silence on the line.

Jack, because he may be panicking just a little, tries to fill it.

“So, the 14th, you and me, dinner here at Hyperion, how does that sound? It sounds great, right? I think so. Does 7:30 work for you?”

Rhys makes a small considering noise. “Is that what this is about.”

“What I’m _about_ is trying to make a date with my boyf-” Jack stumbles over the word, but he recovers. “With you. So you’ll be here?”

Rhys’ voice is warm on the line, and Jack can tell he’s smiling. “I’ll be there. I’ve got to run, Jack, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Sure thing, cupcake.” It’s only as he’s thumbing the call off that Jack realizes he’s smiling too.

Nisha rolls her eyes at him again, if possible harder than before, and rescues her phone from where Jack’s dropped it on the counter. It buzzes faintly, but she ignores it as she tucks it back in her pocket. “He's far too good for you, you know that, right?”

 _Yeah,_ Jack thinks, looking down at his phone. _I know._

 

* * *

 

Running a restaurant means Jack is always busy, and this is especially true on a holiday There are last minute details to arrange, staff to yell at - and an extra table to work in to the seating arrangements, because Jack wants to make Rhys happy, but he is not going to risk his burgeoning reputation by canceling one of his reservations for _Valentine’s Day_ of all days.

So, cancel, no. Squish into a corner, yes.

He’s maneuvering the last table into position himself when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He checks it, and it’s a confirmation for the first delivery he’s sent to Rhys’ apartment.

Excellent. He’s really pulled this one off well, if he does say so himself.

He gets two more notifications over the course of the afternoon, but it isn’t until he’s ducking into the back to freshen up for opening that he realizes he hasn’t heard a word from Rhys. His hands slow as he adjusts his collar.

Huh. Maybe Rhys has been out all day? But all the deliveries needed to be signed for, so…

Jack shakes himself. It doesn’t matter. Rhys will be here in a few short hours, and he probably wants to thank Jack in person for the thoughtful gifts. Jack grins at himself in the mirror. Nailed it.

 

* * *

 

Rhys arrives at Hyperion at exactly 7:25 pm, and Jack is busy, but not too busy to notice his entrance. (He does, after all, have people for this now.) In a room full of people dressed to impress, Rhys still turns heads, and Jack preens a little when Rhys’ face lights up as Jack approaches. Jack slides a hand along Rhys’ hip and underneath the tailored jacket just because he can, and to feel the way way Rhys leans into it.

“Ready for dinner, babe?” Jack settles his hand on the small of Rhys’ back. He still gets a thrill out of this, the way Rhys goes compliant at a touch from Jack.

“I could eat,” Rhys says, relaxed and easy. His nose and cheeks are still red from the cold outside, and Jack resists the urge to kiss them.

“I hope so, because the chef’s really outdone himself this time.” Jack uses the hand he’s got on Rhys to guide him to their table, and Rhys lets himself be steered.

Dinner is delicious - of course it is, Jack doesn’t hire anyone less than the best - but Jack hardly tastes it, because he’s waiting for Rhys to say something about what Jack sent him. Appetizers and entrees come and go, however, and Rhys chats about his day and laughs at Jack’s jokes and doesn’t say a single word about the packages Jack _knows_ he got. Their server clears the dessert plates, and as she’s leaving Jack decides that he can’t take it anymore.

“So, anything interesting in the mail today, buttercup? Any surprises?” He’s so transparent he can barely stand it, but he _has_ to know what Rhys thinks.

Rhys hums, and taps a finger on his lips, looking off to the side. “Let’s see. There was a grocery ad, a couple catalogs.” Jack frowns. Did he get the wrong address? “Oh, and there was a lovely flower delivery - roses and lilies. Very nice, very classic.” Jack smiles and leans back in his chair, picking up his glass. This is more like it. “To which I am very allergic.”

Jack chokes on his drink.

Rhys carries on as if he hasn’t noticed. “There was also the color-coordinated balloon bouquet. Interesting choice to have ‘Damn, you’re fine’ printed on them.”

Okay, that had seemed a lot funnier when he’d arranged it.

Rhys snaps his fingers as if he’s just remembered something. “Or maybe you were referring to the bouquet of plush kittens?”

“You like cats,” Jack tries. This isn’t quite going the way he’d planned.

“I do like cats,” Rhys replies gravely, but his eyes are laughing at Jack. “I like them more when they’re not on stems.”

“All right, all right; no more kitten bouquets,” Jack grouses.

Rhys continues. “And they were all signed, ‘from the handsomest guy you know,’ so naturally I assumed they were from Vaughn.”

“Ha ha.” Jack is sweating, just a little. “Are you saying you didn’t like any of it?”

“I didn’t say that.” Rhys props his elbows on the table. “I _am_ impressed that you managed to pull it off all by yourself.”

“Nisha helped,” Jack admits sheepishly.

“And apparently neither of you know the meaning of the word _restraint_ ,” Rhys says, but he’s smiling genuinely now, and Jack feels the tightness in his chest loosen.

“Hey, I can be restrained! I restrain myself all the time. You should have seen what she wanted me to get you - “ Jack is interrupted by their server returning with _the worst possible timing_ , and who is carrying a smartly-wrapped box that she deposits in front of Rhys with a, “this was left for you, sir.”

Rhys laughs. “More, Jack? You shouldn’t have.”

“I didn’t,” Jack mutters. He has a sinking feeling that he knows exactly what’s inside that box - and who it came from. For a split second he wonders if he can get away with snatching it out of Rhys’ hands, but Rhys is already opening the top.

“Oh.” Rhys’ face goes blank in surprise, then - “Ah. Measurements.”

Jack has to look, and as he tips the box toward himself, his worst fears are confirmed - inside the tastefully wrapped box, nestled inside crisp tissue paper, is a set of very sleek, very expensive, very _feminine_ undergarments.

Jack drops his head in his hands and groans. “I’m going to _kill_ _her._ ” That’s if Rhys doesn’t kill him first.

“You remember what I said about restraint?” Incredibly, Rhys doesn’t sound angry. In fact he sounds like he might be about to laugh. Maybe Jack can play this off as a harmless prank.

“I’m going to get a restraining _order_.” Jack peeks through his fingers at Rhys. “You know those are a joke, right?” He hopes he sounds convincing.

“Hmmm.” Rhys lifts the top piece slightly out of the box, letting the silky fabric pool and slip through his fingers. It’s...more distracting that it should be. “What, you don’t think I have the shoulders for it?”

Jack blinks. That is...not how he thought this conversation was going to go.

“I mean, here it is, literally gift-wrapped,” Rhys continues, lifting his eyes to meet Jack’s. He’s nervous, Jack can see it, but he’s not joking. There’s a challenge there, daring Jack to say the wrong (or possibly the right) thing and Jack loves that, loves that about Rhys, how he pushes back when Jack least expects him to.

And he’s not about to turn down a golden opportunity like this.

Jack drops his hands. “Well, when you put it like that - it would be criminal, really, to let them go to waste. And if we’re being honest, honeybear,” he drawls, leaning forward, “it’s not your _shoulders_ I’m thinking about in those things.”

Rhys matches Jack grin for grin, and Jack is struck again by the realization of how lucky he is, to have this, for as long as he can hold on to it. Jack doesn’t believe in karma - can’t, if he wants to sleep at night - and he’s glad he doesn’t because there’s no way he deserves to have Rhys sitting across from him smiling over a box of lingerie that Jack’s _ex-girlfriend_ left for him. It makes Jack want to drag Rhys into the back and blow him right then and there - but Jack can be patient when he needs to be.

Rhys fits the lid back on the box. His hands slide over the top, one metal, one smooth.

“I, um,” and now he _does_ look uncertain, and for a second Jack wonders if he said the wrong thing, if he pushed too far, if he can take it back. But Rhys surprises him again when he says, “I got you something too.”

Rhys digs a key out of his pocket and extends it toward Jack. “I had this made for you. It’s no kitten bouquet -” Rhys raises an eyebrow and Jack knows he’s going to be living that down for a long time “- but I figured you could, you know. Use it. At my place. If you wanted to.” Rhys bites his lip and it’s _adorable_.

Jack’s fingers close over the key in Rhys’ hand almost before Jack realizes he’s reached for it. He weighs it in his hand for a minute. It feels heavier than it looks. It feels like a promise.

Then the moment passes, and it’s just a key.

Jack tucks it into his pocket, and catches Rhys’ hand across the table. “Thanks, babe. I promise not to use it for evil. No promises on not swapping out all your underwear though.”

Rhys smiles indulgently at him, fingers a warm weight against Jack’s. “Oh, Jack. You have no idea what’s in my underwear drawer,” and for that Jack has to tug him across the tiny table to kiss him, Rhys smiling into Jack’s mouth the whole time.

 

* * *

 

Jack would like nothing more than to drag Rhys immediately home after dinner, but this _is_ a big night for the restaurant and he has responsibilities. He leaves Rhys at the door with a promise to come over later that night, and Rhys leaves him with a kiss that has Jack ready to delegate as much as possible.

Even so, Jack ends up staying at Hyperion later than he really wants to, but when he pulls up in front of Rhys’ place, he can see from the street that the lights are still on. He uses his brand new key to let himself in - he’s been to Rhys’ place before, but it’s new and thrilling, letting _himself_ in to Rhys’ space.

Rhys’ space is currently dominated by the ‘Damn, you’re fine’ balloons, and Jack spots the infamous kitten bouquet on the couch. Seeing it in person, Jack can admit to himself that maybe, _maybe_ , he went the tiniest bit over the top.

“Rhys?” he calls, shrugging off his jacket. Sure, Rhys gave him a key, but it doesn’t hurt to be polite.

“In here,” comes the answer, and the answer is coming from the bedroom. Jack grins, dropping his jacket on the kittens as he passes.

It’s been a long day, but when he gets to the bedroom doorway, the fatigue falls away in a rush.

Rhys looks like a mile of legs, just like Jack knew he would. A short robe frames his pale chest, but beneath it Jack can just see the smooth black panties and the garter belt hugging Rhys’ hips. Sheer stockings with a single seam down the back encase his long, long legs all the way down to a pair of glossy _high heels_ with a delicate strap around the ankle.

Rhys looks like a wet dream come to life. Jack wants to _wreck_ him.

Rhys has a couple of wine glasses and an expensive-looking bottle in front of him on the dresser. One of the glasses is almost empty - Rhys has clearly started without him - and as Jack watches, Rhys picks up the wine and starts to pour a second glass. He’s pouring left-handed, and as he turns the sleeve on his right side flutters emptily.

“Did you get everything taken care of?” Rhys asks.

“Hzg,” says Jack intelligently.

This makes Rhys smile, slow and promising, and he positively _sways_ as he comes over. Jack accepts the glass, but his eyes never leave Rhys.

“Those, uh.” Jack clears his throat and tries again. “Those shoes weren't in the box.”

“No,” Rhys says easily. “The heels are mine.”

That goes straight to Jack’s dick, and he sets the glass aside and crowds Rhys back against the dresser. The wine looks good, but he’d rather chase the taste of it on Rhys’ tongue, to have him humming and pressing himself against Jack. Rhys is taller than usual in his heels, and it’s a new experience for Jack to angle his head _up_ for a kiss, but it’s totally worth it for the way Rhys sighs into his mouth.

While he’s got Rhys’ mouth occupied, Jack pushes the robe off his shoulders, right hand following it down Rhys’ arm. Rhys breaks away with a gasp and Jack takes the opportunity to bite down on the side of Rhys’ neck as payback for that _shoulders_ comment earlier. Rhys shudders gratifyingly against him, hand clenching on Jack’s side.

Jack nips underneath Rhys’ ear just to feel him shake again. There’s so much Jack wants here - he wants his hands on those pretty stockings, he wants Rhys writhing on his dick, he wants to make Rhys _scream_. Jack wants to take Rhys apart with his hands and mouth and leave nothing behind that isn’t his name pressed into Rhys’ skin.

Jack knows what he wants first, though.

His hands drag down Rhys’ sides as Jack lowers himself to his knees, letting his fingers catch on the garter belt and panties in turn. He runs his fingertips along the top of Rhys’ stockings as he nuzzles against Rhys’ erection, already stiff and leaking, straining against the silky underwear. Jack rolls his eyes up to look at Rhys’ face.

“Already hard for me, huh baby?” Rhys nods frantically, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Rhys is biting his lip again, and Jack is pretty sure he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. “You been thinking about this? Because I’ve been waiting to get my mouth on you all night.”

Jack licks Rhys through the fabric, and Rhys’ mouth drops open with a small choked sound. Jack hooks his fingers in the top of Rhys’ panties and pulls, grinning at the way Rhys’ cock springs free when he gets them past Rhys’ hips. Jack slides the underwear slowly down Rhys’ legs, and Rhys steps delicately out of them when Jack reaches the floor, hand braced on Jack’s shoulder for balance.

Now that he’s got Rhys - or rather Rhys’ dick - right where he wants him, Jack starts by licking broad, flat strokes from base to tip. He swirls his tongue around the head for the way it makes Rhys groan, and shifts his hands to Rhys’ hips to hold him steady as Jack works him deeper down his throat.

Rhys leans heavily against the dresser, and his hand comes up to pet hesitantly at Jack’s hair. Jack hums gently around his cock to encourage him, and Rhys bites back a curse as his hips stutter. That’s more than enough incentive to keep doing it, in Jack’s opinion, so he does it again and Rhys’ hand fists in his hair.

Rhys is too polite to thrust into Jack’s mouth, but Jack can tell he’s close from the way his breath hisses between his teeth and the way his muscles jump underneath Jack’s hands. He’s so pretty like this, flushed and wanting, but Jack wants to see Rhys come apart for him, wants to see him _shake._ Jack hollows out his cheeks, pressing his tongue hard against the underside of the head, and just like that Rhys’ whole body goes tense and he comes with a strangled noise.

Jack swallows him down, throat working as he coaxes Rhys through the aftershocks, and then Rhys’s hand is tugging in his hair, pulling him up. Jack follows, ignoring the way his knees protest, and Rhys meets him with a sloppy but enthusiastic kiss, licking the taste of himself out of Jack’s mouth.

“ _Damn,_ ” Rhys says with feeling when he pulls away. “Quite the performance, handsome.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jack purrs as he pulls Rhys around and walks him backward toward the bed. “I am nowhere near done with you yet.”

Jack pushes, and Rhys goes down in a pile of limbs and a faint squawk. Jack follows closely after, shedding shirt and pants and shoes. Rhys props himself up on his elbow as Jack slides a hand up Rhys’ thigh and hooks a finger underneath one of the garter straps.

“Those come off,” Rhys says, sitting up and fumbling for the clip, but Jack grabs his wrist and presses it back down onto the bed.

“Nuh-uh, sweet thing.” Jack grins down at Rhys and snaps the strap against his thigh. Rhys’ dick _definitely_ jumps at that, and Jack’s own stiffens further at the little surprised noise Rhys makes. “Those stay on.”

Jack encourages Rhys to turn over with hands on his hips, and Rhys goes willingly, propping himself up on his knees and resting his head on his arm. Jack can’t resist snapping another strap against the back of Rhys’ thigh, and Rhys’ whole body jerks this time, the noise he makes muffled by the bedspread.

Jack runs his hands up Rhys’ thighs, palming the curve of his ass. “God, you look so good like this. All wrapped up for me.” Rhys shivers as Jack spreads his cheeks and rubs a thumb over his hole. It slips in with hardly any resistance and Jack raises an eyebrow. “Did you-?”

Rhys shifts to shoot Jack a sly look over his shoulder. “You were taking too long at Hyperion, so I started early.” Jack replaces his thumb with a finger, and sure enough Rhys is already loose and slick. Jack adds a second finger, then a third, and Rhys rocks himself back on Jack’s hand with a little hum and closes his eyes. “Pretended it was you. This is better, though.”

“Jesus Christ, pumpkin, you're gonna kill me,” Jack gasps out. He can picture it vividly: Rhys slicking up his own fingers and carefully stretching himself, thinking about Jack. Did he bend himself over the dresser or use the bed? Did he moan out Jack’s name while he did it? One day soon Jack's going to ask for a repeat performance, but his dick is so hard it hurts and he needs to be inside of Rhys _right now_.

He pulls his fingers out and wipes them hastily on the bedspread, then lines himself up against Rhys and pushes in. The feeling of Rhys warm and tight around his cock pulls a groan deep out of his chest, and Rhys moans prettily in answer. Jack stills for a moment when his hips are flush with Rhys’ ass, which is apparently too long for Rhys because he shoves his hips back with a muttered, “come _on_ , already.”

Jack laughs. “Impatient.” He slaps Rhys on the flank, and Rhys yelps. “I like that.”

Jack pulls back and thrusts into Rhys, setting a slow but steady rhythm. Jack wants to take his _time_ with this, to make it last, but it’s hard to remember that when every thrust is driving breathy little moans out of Rhys, and he buries his face in his arm to try to smother the sounds.

“None of that, now, pumpkin.” Jack tightens his grip on Rhys’ hips and adjusts his angle, aiming for Rhys’ prostate. “I want to _hear_ you.” He knows he’s successful when the next couple of thrusts tear a muffled wail out of Rhys. Jack grins. “That’s more like it.”

He picks up the pace, wanting more of those sounds, telling Rhys how good he is, words tripping over each other as he gets closer to the edge. “So good, baby, so good, just for me, isn’t that right? This is-” Jack’s hips snap forward “-just for me.”

Rhys groans into the bedspread. “Ye- yes, Jack, just for you, anyth-” he cuts off as Jack gets a hand around his dick and starts stroking in countertime to his thrusts. “ _Fuck_ , yes, anything for you, Jack, just _don’t fucking stop_ ,” Rhys sobs out.

“I’ve got you, kitten.” Jack’s voice sounds low and rough even to his own ears. Jack has no intention of stopping, not when Rhys sounds like he’s two seconds away from begging. (Although that is an interesting thought, and one that Jack wants to come back to later.) He knees Rhys’ legs a little wider apart and molds himself to Rhys’ back, bearing him down to the mattress. Pressed against him like this, he can feel every little tremor that wracks Rhys’ body as Jack pushes into him again, and Jack is close, he is so close -

Nosing in against Rhys’ hairline, Jack bites down hard on the back of Rhys’ neck, and Rhys _screams_. His body clenches down around Jack, and Jack manages a few more desperate thrusts before his orgasm catches up to him and he follows Rhys over the edge.

 

* * *

 

When he comes back to himself, he’s still partially draped over Rhys’ back, both of them breathing hard. The bite mark he left on Rhys’ neck is going to be one hell of a bruise, and Jack brushes his lips over it in an apology. Rhys makes a happy, contented noise, and Jack figures he can’t be in too much trouble.

Much as Jack would like to crawl under the covers and go immediately to sleep, Rhys still has to be divested of his shoes and what’s left of the lingerie. Jack can’t complain too much about another excuse to put his hands all over Rhys - but it’s calmer, less urgent as he slips off the shoes and rolls the stockings down his legs. Rhys makes encouraging but tired noises at him, and perks up just enough to maneuver himself under the covers. He  rolls toward Jack as Jack slips into the bed next to him.

“I appreciate the gesture, I really do - but you know you didn’t have to do all that, right? The flowers and the balloons and the everything.” Rhys looks and sounds thoroughly well-fucked, which Jack can’t help but take pride in. His voice is sleepy and his eyes are half closed, but he’s still watching Jack from underneath those long lashes.

Jack leans over to kiss him, because what else is he supposed to do? “Didn’t want you to think I was slacking.” Rhys huffs a laugh at that, and his eyes slip all the way shut. Jack waits, but that appears to be all that Rhys is going to contribute for now. Which is fine - Jack is fine avoiding the _feelings_ conversation. Jack turns and reaches for the light switch, then settles down next to Rhys.

He can’t quite let it go though, and some things are easier said in the dark.

“I just want to get this right,” Jack says quietly into the space between them. Even though Jack literally had his dick in Rhys not ten minutes ago, this feels more intimate. He’s pretty sure Rhys is asleep, or close to it, so he’s not expecting in when Rhys’ hand finds his in the dark. Their fingers tangle and Rhys bring their hands up to his mouth.

“You can stop worrying.” Jack can just barely see in the dim light, but he feels it vividly when Rhys presses a chaste kiss to Jack’s fingers. “You’re getting this right.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Edited because I forgot to add: all the gifts Jack found for Rhys are real things. You can find the balloons [here](http://www.firebox.com/product/6958/Love-Bites-Balloons) and the kitten bouquet [here](http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/1539/). The flower arrangement you can find in any reputable florist. Enjoy. :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Table for Two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6575317) by [argentumlupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumlupine/pseuds/argentumlupine)




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